Number One Fan
by SomewhereElse31
Summary: Cammie loves her life, her job, and her friends. She doesn't think anything is missing; but other people do. That is, until she takes on a new job opportunity and her life is completely taking the road she doesn't want it to. Ally Carter owns all. AU and slightly OCC. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1: NYC

She raced along the crowded, early morning New York City streets trying to dodge people and objects in her way. The cool early autumn air felt foreign on her face, as she had grown accustomed to the warm summer breezes that had lasted longer than expected.

She finally reached the subway station she needed and flew down the dirty stairs. After swiping her metro card and absentmindedly getting to her platform she was able to stop and take a deep breath, inhaling the scents of her favorite city in the world.

She was soon interrupted by the urge to have to go to the bathroom. She had gotten up later than usual that Saturday morning, and realizing she was going to be late for a meeting with her boss, didn't really have time to do anything except get dressed.

Thinking of the long ride she would have to endure while really having to go, she turned around and ran to the small public bathroom not far from where she was standing.

However, she soon found herself stuck in the stall. Jiggling the handle and trying to push it with no use, she sighed. Suddenly the roar of the subway entered the small space and quickened her pulse.

_Oh no no no,_ she though as she pushed and pulled on the handle again, over and over with no luck. Starting to panic, she crouched to the ground and slowly but surely, crawled under the stall door and sprinted out of the bathroom.

A smile crossed her face as she was almost about to fly through the closing subway doors, only to be pushed out of the way as someone else took her spot.

Stumbling back and trying to keep her balance, her eyes locked with the person who had sent her flying. The doors shut tightly, immediately sending her blood up and temperature to boiling. She stepped to her right to get a good look at the jerk. She wanted to be able to recognize him if she ever saw him again, that wasn't likely though. That thought made her even more raged. But that didn't last long, as she was captivated by soft green eyes.

It seemed the other person, her age, she guessed, was captivated by her too, as he stepped closer to the window as the subway started to move.

Their eyes stayed locked until she looked away in embarrassment, remembering how she was going to be _majorly_ late now.

And he had on a Yankee's hat. She hated the Yankees.

But there was one good thing-

She didn't have to go to the bathroom anymore.

* * *

She tried to keep her breathing steady as she waited for the elevator in her office building to reach her floor. Her boss was going to kill her she was so late. It took another 8 ½ minutes for the next subway to roll into the station after she missed the first one, and adding that to the 12 minute ride and 5 minute walk, she was 15 minutes late for an important weekly staff meeting.

The elevator dinged and she burst through the doors as they opened way too slowly. She dumped her stuff on her clustered desk and grabbed her notebook while she straightened her blouse. This was supposed to be her chance to get the promotion to assistant to the editor, a position she had dreamed of since her first day of work after college in the high-rise, enormously famous New York City weekly magazine of people and happenings of the city and beyond. She had recently been put as the international correspondent for the magazine, and she loved it. Traveling for free to cities like Paris, Rome, Prague and Berlin is what she wanted to do when she was little and dreaming of her future job, but if she got the position of Editor's assistant she would still be able to travel but she would get a pay raise. She hoped that jerk who had pushed her out of the way of the subway car didn't screw up her chances, but for some reason, she couldn't get his beautiful sea-green eyes out of her head.

Pausing at the closed door of the conference room, she took a second deep breath of the morning. She could feel her heart rate rise with each small turn of the brass doorknob, as she slowly opened the door, hoping not to disturb what was going on inside.

"Ms. Morgan," she heard her boss's monotone voice remark as she kept her head down. "You're late."

"I'm sorry sir," she responded immediately, knowing that an excuse would have made him more mad at her. He always said there were never excuses.

She took the first available chair and opened her notebook as Mr. Edward Townsend started speaking again.

"Ms. McHenry, I need you to cover the Fifth Avenue Fashion Show, this Tuesday," he said to the perky brunette across from her at the table. It was her best friend Macey.

"Sure sir," she responded.

He took a small sip of the coffee mug that sat beside his perfectly organized article topics binder. "Ms. Morgan, I am going to need you to cover the Yankee's game against the Red Sox on Friday once you get back from Paris."

She hesitated. She loved her job, she really did, but she wasn't a sports writer, and she always had the next day off when she got back from a cross-continental trip.

"Mr. Townsend," she started, "that is the day after I get back and Jonas is the sports writer, shouldn't he take that article? I know as a fact that he will be back from his honeymoon by then."

"Mr. Anderson was stung by a rare jellyfish in Mexico this morning, therefore his homecoming will be delayed a few days, putting you in charge of the article, and I know you can handle one night of watching a baseball game," Townsend ordered.

"Yes sir," she nodded, silently sighing to herself. She definitely was _not_ a sports writer; and really hated the Yankees.

* * *

"Oh my god!" Macey whisper-screamed to her best friend as she scurried to her desk 10 minutes after the meeting. "You're never late, what happened?"

"Some jerk made me miss the train," she answered, gathering all the papers she would need in Paris.

Macey laughed. "You are such a nerd."

"Like I've never heard that before," Cammie glared. "I can't believe Townsend gave me a sports article. He must be really mad at me."

"Oh don't worry about that,"Macey reassured her.

Cammie gave her a look of pa-lease.

"Really though, he is testing your range to see if you can handle Editor's Assistant stuff," Macey sat herself on top of Cammie's half-clean desk.

"I hope you're right," Cammie sighed.

"Anyway," Macey said and pulled a nail file out of her bra, trying to fix her already perfect nails, "you want to go out tonight? Preston, Bex, Grant and his friend are going to be there."

"You know I can't Macey, my flight leaves at 11 tonight," she answered, not wanting to go anyway.

Macey rolled her eyes jokingly. "Whatever. _I'm Cammie and I've been to Paris five times already this year!"_

Cammie smiled. "Oh shut up."

"I'll forgive you this time Morgan," Macey pointed her French manicured finger in Cammie's face, "but when I pick you up from the airport Thursday we are going out and you _will_ have fun."

"Challenge accepted," Cammie chuckled. "Now if you excuse me, je decolle por Paris."

"Text me when you land darling!" Macey waved after her better half. _She needs a boyfriend_, she muttered to herself as she turned and started filing her nails again.

* * *

The plane seat felt unusually comfortable as she sat down and adjusted her carry-on under the seat in front of her. Her head had started to ache as she passed through the long security line and she was running late, yet again, and didn't have a chance to grab something to eat from one of the giant airport's many food options. She would have to settle for airplane food.

For some reason, although it was absolutely freezing, a baby was crying a few rows behind her and the TV monitor in the front said _seven hours to go_, she didn't mind.

Something was making her content, and she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was that Townsend wasn't completely outraged with her, or Macey saying he was absolutely considering her for the Editor's assistant position, or just the fact that she was traveling (her favorite thing in the world to do).

As she felt the plane jerk onto the runway and speed into the air, her eyes drifted closed and she saw those green eyes again. She absentmindedly smiled.

The 50 something woman sitting next to her figured she was thinking of her husband or boyfriend and sighed, _young love._


	2. Chapter 2: Post Paris

**How can the only thing that's killing me make me feel so alive?**

**~Parachute**

_**"She (For Liz)"**_

Her muscles relaxed as she stepped off the plane and into the terminal.

She loved airports. Even though she was normally alone when she traveled, she never felt it. Just looking at all the different types of people was something she always liked doing. She felt like she always got the best education on cultures in airports, because of the amount of different people traveling to different places. Essentially they were the same-her and them. Maybe they were studying her too.

The late afternoon light, even though it was getting dimmer with each minute, made her squint. The ringing in her ears because of the flight slowly faded under the noise of people. She had slept almost the whole flight back to New York from Paris. While she felt a headache coming on, she was glad she got some napping in.

The light seemed harsh even in the baggage claim and passenger pick up area. She pushed her sunglasses over her eyes as she filed into the line to go down the too slow escalator. Suddenly all she could think about was the rumbling in her stomach and the barely there throbbing behind her eyes.

All she wanted to do was get back to her apartment, shower, and crawl into her bed. She knew when she woke up in the morning she would have to worry about the stupid baseball game she had to cover that night but she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. That seemed to help the pain in her stiff joints a tiny bit as she strolled to get her luggage.

She sighed as the other people stood aimlessly waiting for their bags. Her mind faded to a baked potato, overflowing with butter, cheese, sour cream and bacon and she swore she could smell one before the shrill voice of someone calling her name made her snap around.

"Cammie! Cammie!"

She wanted to smile at the sight of her best friend, she really did, but she hesitated. Macey was the sweetest person Cammie knew, but sometimes she was very over dramatic. Like now, for example. Grant and another guy were with her.

As Macey shuffled towards her in her signature overdramatic fashion, Cammie pushed her sunglasses up again and made sure she looked tired. No question Macey would try to get her to go out with her that night.

"Hey Mace," Cammie smiled and hugged the girl in a lacey top and ripped jeans. "I missed you."

"Girl you have no idea," Macey sighed. "In the only-what, five days you've been gone, I've had to deal with bozo over here and Bex breaking up and getting back together, not once, but twice."

Cammie finally took a glance in Grant's direction.

"Hey Cam," he smiled innocently as she pulled him in for a hug. Grant and Cammie had known each other since childhood and Cammie could easily say she was closest to him out of the other guys her and her girlfriends hung out with. He was just so easy going and supportive. All throughout their childhood Grant could always cheer Cammie up.

"Oh and Cam this is Zach, Grant's friend from college," Macey introduced as Cammie and Grant pulled away from their sibling-style hug.

Cammie turned in his direction, her back to the baggage claim, and totally oblivious to the fact that her suit case was rolling by.

Before he moved, she got a good look at him...and his Yankee's hat.

The comfort and ease she had felt when she had seen Grant washed out of her system immediately. She could feel her breath getting caught in her lungs, her heart stopping and starting at an unimaginable pace, her mouth going dry and her palms sweating. Before her vision got blurry she saw that she was staring at the green eyes that made her late on Saturday.

She couldn't believe it.

She also couldn't believe he didn't introduce himself, rather he side stepped her and walked right over to the baggage claim and grabbed her suitcase with ease, as if they had known each other all their lives.

"Excuse me, I can grab my own luggage," she snapped in unexpected anger as she stomped over to him.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he defended, placing the purple bag by her feet.

"How did you know it was mine anyway?" Cammie asked him, staring into his eyes with a spout of confidence she had to grab from deep down.

"We'll, it has the magazine name Macey works for on the tag, and she mentioned earlier that you two worked together. I just thought it would save you some trouble," he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared back at her. He could tell who she was even with her sunglasses. She wondered if he recognized her. He wondered if she recognized him.

"You pushed me out of the way of the subway Saturday morning," she spat at him, hoping to get a response.

"So you're the one," he said a slight smile dancing on his lips. "Look, I'm really sorry about that."

"Yeah, you made me late for a very important meeting," she crossed her arms, showing him she was still mad about the whole situation.

"Again, I am sorry," he said again, sympathy clear in his voice.

When she didn't answer right away he continued.

"If I could make it up to you and take you out to dinner sometime?"

His sweet smile almost made her forget about their brief yet disappointing history, and she wanted to run her fingers through his dark hair while he wrapped his arms around her, but he pushed her out of his way the other day, _pushed_. Like, come on, rude.

Her voice cracked as she answered with the first thing that popped into her mind, "I'm pretty busy, sorry."

His eyes filled with disbelief as she praised herself for still having her sunglasses on so he wouldn't be able to see the confusion in her eyes. _Damn, _he thought,_she's killing me._

She didn't really decline dates, especially from guys that looked like he did. She was just being stubborn, and she knew that. Of course, if they had been in a different situation than they were in she would have accepted encouragingly. But her bladder ruined it. And she felt a ping of guilt and anger because of that.

She started to feel the blood rush to her cheeks and the embarrassment crawl through her body. She felt like she owed him an explanation. She didn't want him to hate her, even though it was _so_ logical that she could hate him.

"Look, I would accept you offer, it's just you didn't really make the best impression-"

"Well," Macey interrupted stepping in between the two to look at Cammie, "Cam were all going out tonight, and if course you're joining us right?"

The jingles Macey's bracelets made as she moved her arms rang through Cammie's ears, as did the embarrassment she felt with her and Zach's previous conversation.

"Sorry Mace, I'm really tired, security in Paris was a disaster and I barely slept on the plane so I think I'm going to have to sit this one out, but I'll see you tomorrow."

Macey lightly sighed in frustration, her Tiffany bracelets clinging as she folded her arms. "Fine, at least let me take you home in our cab."

"No that's alright," Cammie answered immediately, pulling up the handle and staring to push her way through the crowd, her vision still blurry and her head aching more than it had. "I'm not on your way, so I'll just get my own."

She didn't wait for Macey to answer as she turned and walked towards the long line for a cab.

She thought the awkwardness would ware off as she got farther from Zach, but it was the opposite. As she walked away she could feel his green eyes burning a hole through her back and his damn Yankee's hat singed in her memory.

As she stepped in the line and stood her suitcase up beside her, she felt her legs tingle and her vision become darker and darker. She didn't know what was happening, but all of the sudden all she heard was her name being called and the thump her body made on the dirty carpet of JFK International Airport before she fell into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3: Yankee Stadium

"I cannot believe you fainted in the middle of JFK," Macey laughed as she walked into Cammie's apartment, shutting the door behind her while her bracelets continued to jingle with her every motion.

"Hardy har har," Cammie said, turning and narrowing her eyes in an attempt to get Macey to shut up about it. "Look can we just forget about it? It was so incredibly embarrassing."

Night was beginning to set into the windows, casting shadows all around the rooms. Cammie looked forward to this every night, it reminded her of a castle or big mansion with windows scattered all over the walls that created works of art on the floor with the dimming light. It almost made her forget about the events that occurred just an hour before.

"Fine, we don't have to talk about the fainting but we do have to talk about Zach," Macey reasoned and Cammie groaned as they made their way towards the living room which connected to the small kitchen. "You didn't tell me you knew him!"

A sigh escaped Cammie's lips as she sat on her couch. Macey followed. "That's the thing Mace, I don't know him."

Macey tossed her large purse onto the ground below them and it made a loud thumping sound that Cammie knew her neighbors downstairs would be able to hear. "You sure acted like you do," her best friend argued.

"He pushed me out of the way of the subway Saturday morning! So what?" Cammie flailed her hands around her in frustration as she put a frozen dinner in the microwave. For some reason, men were always a touchy topic for her. Her father had died when she was young, and she went to an all girl's school seventh through twelfth grade, so her interaction with the other gender didn't really start until she went to college. Macey, on the other hand, was basically a pro. She had dates lined up two months in advance and was always looking for a good time. Plus she was insanely beautiful, so who wouldn't want to go out with her?

Macey huffed. "I don't care if he randomly proposed on the street or something, you denied his offering to take you out!"

"I don't know him!" she shrugged.

Taxis honked on the streets below them. Cammie's microwave beeped. She could smell the savory meal and felt her stomach growl.

"He wanted to take you out and buy you dinner, who in their right mind would not accept that?" Macey called to the brunette in the kitchen.

Cammie didn't respond, just took her microwavable dinner out of the machine and grabbed a fork. She purposely took her time. Macey was getting on her nerves. In a way, she was still surprised her best friend had told Grant and Zach to go out without her, as she wanted to make sure Cammie got home alright.

"Look, I know you're just scared; scared of getting hurt!" Macey shouted to the kitchen. "That's why you never go on dates! But I want you to be happy, so I'll let it go."

Cammie half smiled, because only the last part of what she had just heard she liked. "Whatever Macey!"

"I'm just saying. Maybe next time an attractive guy asks if he can take you out to dinner you go out on a limb and say 'sure! I'd love to' and you just might have fun. You're never going to get married, which I know is something you absolutely want to do within the next ten years, if you keep kicking really attractive guys to the curb."

Cammie sat back down on the couch and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to stay here and lecture me about my lack of a love life. Go out with Grant. The doctor who helped me up said I was just food and sleep deprived."

Macey got up eagerly. "Ok, if you insist!"

"Geez, I guess you really don't want to sit here with me and watch TV," Cammie said in between bites of the heated green beans.

"Sweetheart, I love you to death, but Grant told me Preston is meeting up with us at nine, so if I want to impress him before our date next month then I need to go now. Ciao, darling!"

Before she knew it Macey was out of the door. Cammie stretched her legs out on the empty couch and turned on the TV. She didn't really mind Macey leaving. How could she get mad about it when she knew she wanted to go? Besides, Cammie was used to it. The quiet sounds of the city and buzzing of the television didn't make her lonely.

* * *

"Mr. Townsend," Cammie poked her head through the opening of her boss's door the next day at her office. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Cammie, I did," he replied, signaling her to walk in. "Here is your pass for the Yankee's game tonight. They will let you into the locker room after the game, and I will need the report by 8am tomorrow."

Cammie took her pass and shook her head. "I will definitely get it to you by then."

"Good," her boss replied, before pausing. "Miss Morgan, I know you are not fully comfortable with writing about sports, but I gave this assignment because I know you can handle it, and write a nice piece afterwards."

"Thank you sir," she smiled.

"Don't disappoint me," he said, returning to editing the papers in front of him.

She walked out of his office and around the corner to her desk. Passing her busy co-workers, she allowed herself to get cocky for only a second, when she thought, _I've got editor's assistant in the bag._

* * *

She had been roaming around for about 20 minutes looking for the Yankee's locker room. Her press pass gave her a nice seat for the game, but she didn't understand baseball and didn't pay much attention. In fact, she watched for about ten minutes in order to write an interesting intro about the scenery around her, but then she read the book she brought. Of course, she watched the ending too, she just didn't know which inning it was. The night was clear and limitless when the announcer's voice informed her the event was over and the Yankees had beaten the Marlins. Once the game was over, she had to ask about five people how to get to the locker room. She had to find it soon or she wouldn't be able to get an interview with a player and Townsend would have her head. The factual stuff about the game would practically write itself later, when she got the information from ESPN or something, but of course, she had to talk to _somebody_.

Thankfully, she finally found a hallway lined with media waiting by a door that read MAIN LOCKER ROOM. They all wanted to get in. She didn't panic, though. Pushing through crowds was her specialty. Who else could have gotten to the first row up against the ropes to watch the running of the bulls in Pamplona Spain last year?

This time was no exception. The large body guard blocking the door looked very surprised to see her before him in a sea five deep of reporters like herself.

"Hi," she nearly screamed up to the tall and large man. "I'm Cammie Morgan from the New York Apple. Do you think I could get into the locker room for an interview?"

"Sorry miss, no interviews tonight," he said, doing what guards do and looking around and not at her. She knew he would be like that.

"Please," she pleaded, grabbing her press pass around her neck and held up to show him. "I really am a reporter, and I'm only doing this game because I want a promotion. Here's my pass, straight from Edward Townsend himself."

She held up the plastic case that held her ticket in her ticket not to get in. He studied it for a second before glancing at her with a confused expression.

"Did you say Edward Townsend?" he asked apprehensively.

She nodded. "The one and only."

The man smiled, a genuine looking grin changing his whole façade. "Ed helped land me this job. He knows the manager and my father, and knew I'd been lookin for something for a while. I've lived here all my life and have never made as much as I do now. Go on in, and tell Ed Ray says thanks again."

Cammie smiled then too. "Thanks Ray, you may just help me get a job too."

He opened the door for her and smiled and nodded as she slipped in.

The room was not the locker room, but a sitting room with a few couches, a TV, and Yankees' memorabilia decorating the walls. Cammie heard noises from the door on the opposite wall. She casually opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief. She had found the locker room, and there were only two players in it. A great atmosphere for chatting. The one thing she hated about her job was doing an interview in a crowded space where she could barely hear the person speak.

"Excuse me," she said confidently, cautiously stepping through the wooden door. The two players, on opposite sides of the room, turned. "I was wondering if I could get an interv—"

Suddenly, her breath was taken from her lungs, her face flushed intensely and she didn't know what to say.

There he was. Mister I-need-to-get-where-I'm-going and Mister I-am-going-to-ask-you-out-days-after-pushing-you-d own, sitting at his locker, with his name and picture draped on the wall inside.

Moments of silence passed. Words caught in her throat. She felt like she was going to faint again.

"Interview. I wanted to know if I could get an interview with a player," she stuttered, not looking into his eyes or even in his direction. He was wearing baseball pants and a white t-shirt, his Yankees hat on backwards. The other guy sat on the other side of the room, with his jersey still on. He was older, with a bushy beard and a small chain around his neck.

"Well Miss, I was just about to head to the showers," the guy said, standing hesitantly. Cammie saw his name on the inside of his locker was Buddy Thomas.

"I can do it Buddy," Zach spoke up, slowly standing as well. "If Miss Morgan is okay with that."

They both looked in her direction.

She didn't focus on either of them this time, obviously too embarrassed.

"Sure!" she exclaimed nervously, trying to make it look like she turned her attention to finding her notepad and recorder in her purse. Making a great deal of effort, she didn't want them to know she knew exactly where both were.

"Great!" Buddy said as he started towards the second door in the room. "See ya Zach."

"Bye Buddy, nice game tonight," Zach replied, giving a small wave in his team-mate's direction.

Cammie still tried to seem frustrated with the contents in her purse as Zach studied her.

"You can take a seat over here if you'd like," Zach said to her.

She gave up on looking busy and grabbed both items, forcing her attention on the most awkward interview she would ever have to conduct. Guilt flooded her being as she sat in a chair across from the guy she had been brought together by faith with three times within one week.

"I didn't know you played for the Yankee's," she said, deciding to give up her hard-to-get image. It was only going to embarrass her in the end, and she knew it.

He laughed, soft and effortlessly.

"Yeah. I didn't know you were a sports reporter," he joked, resting his elbows on his knees.

She smiled politely back. "I'm not. Our regular reporter is on his honeymoon, so I am covering for him."

He continued to smile, obviously surprised she was there. "Ah, you must be the best of the best if you're covering the Yankee's."

She felt her cheeks go hot again as her pulse continued to thump. Her hands shook too, so she opened her notebook to a clean page. "Obviously," she finally met his eyes and smiled, not knowing fully what her brain was choosing to do.

* * *

**She's the girl that no one ever knows.**

**And I say hi, but she's too shy to say hello.**

**She's just waiting for that one to take her hand**

**And shake her up.**

**I bet **

** I could.**

**-We The Kings**


End file.
